Jenggala followed behind Bessa as she moved through her early evening routine, the two of them moving through the dying light.
She checked her winter plants, murmured to her herbs, adjusted the covering over the more delicate shoots to protect them from the coming frost.
It was evident that she loved the earth and the things that grew from it, and Jenggala found himself trailing after her like a shadow, carrying whatever she handed him. A heavy pot here, a bundle of stakes there.
For a dragon who could have flattened the entire cottage with a shrug, it might be seen as a curious sight. But their relationship had grown this close. He was pleased about that.
He held the fragile stems with hands that had torn through monsters, and he handled each one carefully.
Yes, he changed too. He learned too. To be a human's good friend, like the Dragon Lord taught him.
But now he knew, to be more than a friend, he still had a long way to go.
